


The Cursed and the Damned

by Lothirielswan



Category: World of Warcraft, World of Warcraft - Various Authors
Genre: F/M, Gilneas, Undead, Worgen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-07-08 20:53:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19875922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lothirielswan/pseuds/Lothirielswan
Summary: Peril has come to the peninsula of Gilneas. A new edition of the mad has been added to Gilneas Asylum, with a mix of claws and rotting flesh. Peril has come to Gilneas, but the people don't know it yet.





	1. Asylome

_For Ethan._

_Mariauna Blackthorn_

_Gilneas City Asylum_

The sound of chains against the stone gravel sounded like a child crying. The shadows stirred in the cells I passed. Growls followed. I had been to the asylum many times, my gaze now catching the deep scars on stone that had appeared in my absence. My nose was accustomed to the putrid stench of rotting flesh.

I stopped. 

I peered through the nearest set of bars. Torches and oil lamps were said to infuriate them, so a simple wax candle stood guard, sputtering a warning as I lingered. The darkness swirled. I hugged my journal to my chest as I leaned forward, arching my glasses high above the bridge of my nose. 

The creature of nightmares hissed and a hand full of steak knives surged at me. I staggered back, smoothing my skirts about me as I stared at the unknown. _No, they weren’t steak knives. They were claws._

How peculiar.

I continued my walk down the long corridor, passing some beasts, some corpses, some madmen, and wondering what specifically made them different. My thoughts faded away as I approached the wooden door at the end, guarded by two men with rifles. 

“Alchemist Blackthorn,” I informed them. They both exchanged a glance, and one fished out a ring of keys. As the brass rang like chimes, the shadows growled. 

I hurried into the other room. The air bubbled with chemicals. I passed wooden tables filled with glowing tubes and curious inventions. My grip tightened on my journal when I saw him.

“Chemist Aranas,” I said. The hooded figure was cloaked in robes made of rainy clouds as he spared a glance at me. Krennan Aranas was the Royal Chemist of Gilneas. He was well familiar with King Greymane, having saved his daughter. Now he was ordered to solve this new enigma, and I was charged with assisting him. 

“So...you passed _them_ on your way in. What do you think?” He asked, flipping through aged parchment on the nearest desk. “Thoughts?”

“You want an honest observation?”

“Yes, I do quite favor those,” He mused, his wrinkled fingers tracing the many columns of words. 

I squared my shoulders, thinking of the new creatures we had acquired of late. “They’re not too different from the living residents of this infirmary.”

“In what way?” He asked, his tone not condescending yet.

I set my journal on the nearest countertop, glimpsing the many vials I would soon be using. I answered, “They are unpredictable. They also suffer from the mind...there’s a war going on in there that we cannot see.”

“So you think that we should start treating them psychologically, not physically?” Chemist Aranas looked up from his work. His gray, all-knowing eyes pierced mine. “They are _victims_ , mind you. This isn't their natural form.”

“Perhaps not, but the physical changes should not be the issue. There is a lack of control, restraint,” I counted them on my fingers. “Let’s look at this from a scientific point of view—”

“Weren’t we already?” Aranas muttered.

“More in depth,” I added, feeling a slight flush in my pale cheeks. I continued, begging my mind to speak clearly through my mouth, “This is a mutation. The mutation changes humans physically and psychologically. Perhaps the physical part cannot be salvaged, or it can't be returned to its natural state. But the mind is much more flexible.”

Aranas nodded. “Alright, we’ll try some of the treatments that we use on our other sick fellows. They’re monsters, but it would be better to look like a monster than to think like one.”


	2. Cleansting

_ Darfius Flameheart _

_ Gilneas City _

“Excuse me!” A woman in beige breeches and a vest hurried along the marketplace, trying to capture anyone’s attention. “Excuse me—!”

The baker offered me a pastry wrapped in a thin, sticky cloth and addressed the next person in line. The oven-hot bun stung the inside of my hand as I peered at the red-haired woman. 

She passed out papers marked with black ink, smudging in the soft downpour that always assaulted the peninsula. One fluttered across the stones by my feet. I bit off a chunk of bread drizzled with sizzling cinnamon as I stared at the hollow, murky face on the parchment. 

_ ‘Have you seen this man?’ _

Another person missing. Another pinch of hysteria added to a stew of terror. 

My boots scraped across the wet cobblestone as I approached the redhead. I took another bite of my pastry as I studied her up close.

Shades of purple surrounded those green eyes as they caught my gaze. She took a step forward, fiddling through the many copies she had and offered me one. “Excuse me, have you seen my son? His name is Jimmy, just barely thirteen years old…”

_ A thirteen year-old. The ages are vast.  _

I nodded and took the paper, just to see a flicker of relief pass over her rain-soaked face. I folded up the paper of the missing boy and tucked it into my coat as the woman continued down the booths of the marketplace, flagging someone else down. 

“Another one?” 

Her voice was soft, yet held little emotion to it. It was the backlash of only using her words to announce the next stage of an experiment in a lab. 

I turned sharply to address Mariauna. 

“There’s a spider on your head.” I said.

She rolled her hazel-green eyes. Most of her brown curls were tucked up into a hat, keeping them safe from rain and eight-legged insects. 

“I would say the same to you, but you don't seem to house anything on your shoulders,” She remarked. There was a hint of a smirk on those thin, pale pink lips. 

_ Ever reserved, even in playground insults.  _ I offered her my arm and she took it. Every move was dainty. I ripped off another piece of cinnamon bread as if to break the formal air about her. 

We left the marketplace behind, walking side by side on the gloomy, melancholy streets of Gilneas City. I had lived in this town, this single chunk of land, my entire life. Some would call it bitter. The people were stubborn, and their wits just as sharp as their accents. I was home. 

“So, how’s the Looney Bin?” I asked her. 

Mariauna shook her head. “Filling up.”

“That sounds dangerous.” I said. “And like no one like me should know that.”

“Agreed. So you never heard it.”

“Yes I did. You should tell me more.” I replied. 

Her arm stiffened around mine. “There’s a new disease spreading…”

“Spooky,” I replied. 

“They’re storing them in the asylum now…” We came to one of the bridges overlooking the canals that passed through the city. Ripples caressed the surface, overlapping with designs. 

We paused and looked over the railing. Our reflections were distorted and mutilated into murky monsters.

“Are they killing them off yet?” I murmured.

Mariauna shook her head. Her reflection did the same, bobbing like the moon in the night. “I don't know if that’s possible...I suggested that we should work on a cure mentally first—”

“So there’s physical effects too?” I’d been around her long enough to infer some of what came next. 

“Yes...disturbing ones, yet fascinating.”

“Hmm.”

We moved on from the river of mirrors and continued into the next district of the city. Heat erupted and the air cackled. Neither of us flinched when the building closest to us burst into flames. Shouts and screams from others followed. We stopped just as a soot-covered man limped down the stairs. 

Both of us moved to help him when he shrieked, “Don’t—! Keep your distance,  _ rebel scum! _ I hope you burn in this civil war!” 

He hobbled off. People crowded around us to watch the flames hiss with laughter. I didn't like how close they were to the sputtering sparks. 

I snatched up one of the blackened pieces of the man’s home and waved it over my head. “Show’s over. Get back to your less interesting lives.”

A few spat on the ground before me as they left. Mariauna wandered back to my side. We both glanced at each other. 

“Sick men fighting civil wars,” I muttered.

“And what side do you serve?” She remarked. 

I dropped the flame-raped piece of wood. “I prefer to think of myself as neutral.”

Mariauna’s slim brown eyebrow rose accusingly like the edge of a scythe. Behind us, the yellowing walls to the home caved in and more sparks were roused. Officers moved to quench the flames, but the rain was already drowning the flickers of light. 

We continued our stroll together to the courtyard of the city. It was a grand slab of rock leading up to the church of Gilneas. Inside, people worshipped the Light. I didn't rely on these beliefs for comfort from the ever-hovering darkness. 

It was an open area, but the people were more scarce. Mari finally continued our conversation, “You’ve been with Crowley...at the riots.”

“To defend the other neutrals, yeah. You were there too,” I replied, “You’ve been helping King Greymane with your toxic gas.”

“But I wasn't  _ there _ .”

“You didn't need to be. Your creations did the work for you.” 

Mariauna’s head snapped to me. “I am trying to keep my job, Darfius.” 

“I know. That’s what you live for.” I remarked. “But by the looks of it...you don't have to worry about competition.” 

A ripe, terrified scream silenced us. 

People froze on the street. The guards stationed at the doors with blue tabards unsheathed their rifles. 

I cursed. “Disease, explosions, and violence. This place is turning into a war zone.”

“What is it?” Mari’s leather gloves stained with chemicals flew up to her collarbone, taken aback by the noise. Most people ran towards it. I was only thinking of the Gilneans trapped within.

“A riot’s starting.” 

Her pink lips opened, yet no sound escaped them. I gripped her shoulders. “Get out of here. You don't want to see this—”

“I’ve seen worse!” She snapped.

“Yes. You’ve seen rambling madmen ravaged by the world and the monsters that they talk about. But they were behind  _ bars _ .” I remarked. The familiar  _ thunk _ of cobblestones being ripped from the earth and thrown filled my ears. My fingers tightened on Mariauna, digging into the light olive green of her dress. 

“I can protect myself,” Mari remarked. 

I cast another glance over my shoulder when I heard a rifle fire. “It’s not worth it. They’re not being wise, they’re trying to solve their problems with violence. And they’re hurting innocents in the process. Does that sound like you?” I said. 

I watched her facial expression flicker. My words had brought out her love of rationality, and now, her features twisted at the thought of the riot.

_ Curiosity killed the cat, and it’ll probably come after her next. _

She pointed a daunting finger at me in the small space between us. “Stop by my house afterwards. I know you, you’ll hurt yourself.”

_ She’ll get her revenge then. Pouring rubbing alcohol into a wound. _ I clasped her hand and pressed a kiss on the top. “Looking forward to it.” 

I turned away and let my boots carry me towards the shouts and shrieks. 

I dove into the sea of thunderous shouts. Punches were thrown with cursed negligence. Angry eyes blazed like witch fires. 

Darius Crowley’s voice came from somewhere in the mob. “Greymane, you coward! You left the Alliance of Lordaeron and hid in your small corner of the world! You caged your people on this damned peninsula like _ dogs!” _

_ There’s always one...where are they—? _

Someone tugged on the sleeve to my coat. I glanced down at a boy just shy a few years of becoming a man. His skin was dark like the wooden trim of the houses, glittering with sweat and rain drops. 

“Please, I want nothing to do with this,” I caught his plea over the noise. “I don't want to hurt anyone! Please!” 

His hollow cheeks flexed like a fish out of water. 

“Come on,” I wrapped an arm around his shoulders clad in a blue scarf and looked around for a way out of the mob. Panic and claustrophobia choked the teen next to me. I felt his heart shudder in his ribcage. 

Crowley’s voice dawned again. “The Northgate Rebellion will not turn their backs on those who need us! The Northgate Rebellion will not let Azeroth crumble around us! We are not dogs, Genn! We are  _ wolves _ , and we will not be leashed by the likes of you—!” 

A gunshot followed. Gilneans ducked down, or were frozen by the noise. I hauled the fragile boy next to me away from the heart of the riot as the violence turned into a frenzy. 

I got halfway across the square when people started running. I squeezed the boy’s torso, “We’re almost there...we’re almost there…”

_ The gas will start soon...the toxins will settle in… _

I ducked into an alleyway, and we were submerged in the forsaken back roads of Gilneas city. The walls of buildings stood daunting above our heads. Drenched clotheslines flapped in the wind, as if they were trying to ward off intruders. 

The shouts began to grow faint (from the distance or the gas, it was impossible to know). I kept a hand on the kid’s shoulder, who was trembling from the riot. 

“It's...a little dark,” The boy cringed. 

I opened my palm. Warm, golden light fizzled and popped against my fingers. The boy stared in awe as we continued to walk.

“So...you’re with the priest lot, then?” He asked.

“No.”

The new source of light had its pros and cons. Pro: the light danced across the surface of puddles that were now easy to avoid. Con: the shadows also danced, swaying with delight. 

One of the shadows seemed to dart across the narrow street. I felt the air part. A disgusting smell carried. 

The boy and I paused as the skin on my neck became infested with goosebumps. 

_ We’re not alone. _

“If you’re one of Crowley’s men, or Greymane’s, move along.” I said. 

I cradled the mini sun in my hand, ready to blast the night with light. 

The kid shouted as the silhouette leapt from the shadows. With my hand on his shoulder, I shoved him away, and unleashed my beam of light on the intruder. 

The dark lump fell to the ground. The kid shivered off to the side, peeking at me behind his hands. “You alright?”

I rolled my shoulders, wincing as pain erupted in my arm. “Just a scratch.”

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: Hi Awesome Adventurers! I hope you're as excited for this one as I am. There was a man, a very brilliant man that put up with a lot of my crap XD he looked at some of my first pieces of writing, and I wouldn't be where I was today without his help and patience. His story deserves to be told, so I hope you enjoy the ride! Love, fortune and glory to you!!


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